


Lucky Day

by der_tanzer



Series: Catbread [28]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nick and Murray are lost far from home, it will take all their strength, and their faith in the men who love them, to see them through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Penball](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Penball).



"I just wish I could go along," Cody said as he and Nick hefted a crate into Mimi's cargo bay.

"So do I, but you've got that waterskiing deal and we need the money. It'll be okay. It's a short hop, two hours there and two hours back. We'll be home in plenty of time for the movie."

"Yeah, I know. I just wish—"

Nick interrupted him with a kiss and then turned to grab another crate.

"I know, man. But I'll have Murray with me. What could go wrong?"

It was a short trip, by aviation standards, over to a small private enclave in the foothills where a survivalist group was grimly awaiting World War III. They'd given Nick a contract to bring in supplies every month and this was to be his first run. He had it in writing that they wouldn't ask him to bring in weapons or drugs, and they were true to their word. Their spokesman had given him a long list of food items and some clothing and basic medical supplies, but nothing he couldn't get at the local pharmacy. Cody had helped him with the shopping and crating last night, and leaving him behind was the one single thing that Nick didn't like about this trip.

He wasn't even entirely certain why he was taking Murray, except that the flight would be a bit lonely, and Murray was good with maps. It never hurt to have a map reader along, even one who consistently refused to learn port and starboard. Nick thought maybe he'd have time to work on that today, if all other conversation failed. One thing about Murray—he could learn anything if he just believed he could. In fact, for the last military function they'd attended, Murray had put his eagles on straight without having to be reminded.

They were securing the final crate when Murray came over, a pack on his back and a duffle bag in one hand.

"Going to do some hiking, Boz?" Cody asked with a small smile.

"What? Oh, no. We won't have time for anything like that, will we? Because I don't think I'm wearing the right shoes, and I didn't bring any sunblock—"

"He means, what's with all the luggage? We're gonna be back by suppertime," Nick interrupted. Already this was starting to seem like a bad idea. He loved Murray, but the guy always managed to slow him down, and from the looks of all this baggage, today would be no exception.

"Oh, this. You said we could stop off in Santa Monica and drop some stuff for my client. And I need to look at some of this first, anyway, while you're unloading or during the flight. You won't really need me to co-pilot, will you?" There was the tiniest glint of hope in his eyes when he said that, and Nick pretended not to see it.

"Not really. I just thought you'd enjoy the trip, but if you have work to do…"

"Oh, no. It won't matter if I don't touch it again, so long as it gets delivered," he said as Cody helped him load his bags in the bay. "Anyway, you don't want to go out there by yourself, do you? I've been doing some reading on this survivalist movement and some of these groups can be quite dangerous."

Nick almost asked if Murray planned to protect him, and then realized that was exactly what he meant. Well, he'd done it before. Suddenly Nick was remembering the day last year when Cody had been shot and Murray saved their lives. For the second time. Nick thought about that for a moment and was mildly ashamed. He and Cody had done a lot more shooting over the years, but Murray had the most kills. Maybe Murray had been thinking of that when he offered to come along.

"No, Boz, I don't want to go by myself," he said and gave Murray a hand up into the bay. Cody shut the door and waited for Nick to wave down to him from the cockpit. That was the signal to get clear before the engine started, and Cody backed off the pad but didn't leave. He stood there and watched _Mimi_ lift off, turning into a little pink speck in the distance before disappearing completely. Only then did he get into the car and head home.

Murray left his equipment in the bay and climbed up into the cockpit so he could watch Nick fly. Although he had no real urge to learn it himself, he did like to watch. And the view was spectacular, especially once they were away from the city. He couldn't help commenting on the scenery passing below, and when Nick answered, he seemed to be in a good mood.

"How well do you know these people?" Murray asked idly. "Have you been there before?"

"One of them called me and set it up. The contracts went through the mail. I haven't met any of them."

"Oh. Why didn't Cody come, then? I know he had that charter, but what if they're really—nuts?"

"They're not nuts, Mur. They're just worried about the state of the world, and I don't exactly blame them. Anyway, I have a contract. If they were gonna kill me, they'd be paying by the trip."

"That's not funny," Murray said, but he was laughing, still looking out the window. "I love the plowed land," he said suddenly. "How it's in such neat little squares and swirly rows. I wonder if farmers have to do it that way, or if they can make other patterns. Maybe I can look that up."

"I'm sure you can. You can look up anything, can't you?"

"Probably. Nick, thanks for letting me come along," he said, turning toward his friend. "I know I'm not really useful up here, but I hated to think of you going alone."

"Don't thank me, Murray. I do enjoy your company, you know. But if it was dangerous, I wouldn't have brought you. Anything happens to you, LT will have my head on a stick. What's he doing today, anyway?"

"He's over at the store supervising the contractors. He really insisted on remodeling before we reopened, making it all our own. I think he misses bossing people around."

Nick laughed, but not in an insulting way. He'd discovered over the last few months that he liked Quinlan, and if they grated on each other now and then, it was because they were so alike. Nick was proud of himself for being able to admit that.

"So when are you opening?"

"Next month, if they stay on schedule. We're looking over new inventory now, toys and science project kits. There's something I want to stock—it's so great. You can grow your own crystal forest in a candy jar. I had one when I was a kid, but I can't find them in stores now. And Ted wants model kits, cars and planes, so he's picking out paints and those tiny little brushes. We're debating paint by number sets, for younger kids, you know, but I'm worried about the shelf space."

"Have to get Cody to help stock. He's great at maximizing space."

"You're right. You guys will help us get started, right? I don't want to take up all your time, we still have the agency to run and everything, but Ted's really excited about this."

"Sure, Boz. We plan on helping just as much as you need. It's the least we can do, right?"

"Well…"

"Come on. After everything you've done for us, you think we'll abandon you now? Get serious."

"No, I know you won't. You know what, Nick? We're about the luckiest guys in the world."

"Yeah, buddy. I know."

***

They talked the whole way, and Murray never so much as checked his bags. The electronics and small instruments remained in the bay, and by the time they got there, he no longer felt that Nick was disappointed by him.

"That's a hell of a landing zone," Nick muttered as they neared the compound.

"What—concentric circles? Is that normal?"

"It's a bulls eye, Murray, and it's not. Why would they pave a chopper pad and then paint it like that?"

"Maybe it's special paint. Like, it could glow in the dark so they don't need lights."

"Have you ever seen that much glow paint all in one place? And in red?"

"No," Murray said thoughtfully. "But I could probably make some."

Nick gave him a quick look, saw that he wasn't joking, and smiled uneasily.

"Do you have your pistol, Murray?"

"Yeah, but do you think—I mean, you said they weren't dangerous."

"I know what I said, but now I'm not so sure. Just put it behind your back and be cool. It's probably fine; just keep your eyes open." He didn't add _and your mouth shut_, but Murray guessed he was thinking it. He took his pistol out from under the seat where he'd stored it for the trip, and slid it into his belt beneath his denim jacket. Then _Mimi_ began to descend and he tightened up his harness. Nick didn't reach for a gun and Murray assumed he was already wearing his.

They touched down with hardly a tremor, and were surrounded by men in camouflage before they had their harnesses off. Some of those men were carrying semi-automatic rifles and Murray wondered if Nick was as scared as he was. But no. Nick was never scared. At least not in the way Murray was. He would let Nick be in charge and they would be fine.

"You're Ryder?" one of the camouflaged men asked.

"That's right. You're Kirkham?"

"I am. These are my lieutenants, Polito and Jones. Want you to open up that door and let us inspect the cargo. Then we'll load it in those trucks and be on our way."

Nick started to answer, and then the one called Polito gestured toward Murray.

"Wait," Kirkham said, holding up a hand. "Who's that? You didn't say you were bringing anyone."

"That's Bozinsky, my navigator."

Murray was absurdly pleased by the title, even though he knew he didn't deserve it, and offered a friendly smile. It was not returned.

"Bozinsky?" Polito repeated. "I know that name."

"Bullshit," Jones muttered. "You been here five years. What do you know about outside?"

Murray started to say something and Nick stepped on his foot. He closed his mouth and waited, sweat trickling down his spine and collecting on the grip of his .45.

"He's my navigator, like I said. I don't fly alone. Now, you want your supplies, or should I just return all this shit for store credit?"

"Let's get it unloaded," Kirkham said, standing back while Nick opened the door.

The whole process went smoothly, the men prying open crates and checking supplies off inventory lists before loading them onto the trucks. There were nearly a dozen nameless drones working on the project in an organized manner, so Nick and Murray stayed out of the way. They were nearly done when one of the drones, who probably called himself a soldier in whatever army they were running here, picked up Murray's bag.

"What's this?" he asked, already unzipping it.

"No, that's mine," Murray said, taking a step toward the open door. "That's not part of the shipment, it's—"

"It's electronics. Colonel, get up here."

For a second Murray thought the words were directed at him, and then Kirkham was pushing him aside, climbing up into the hold.

"What the fuck?" he said, digging through the jumble of wires and circuits. "What is this, surveillance equipment? Radio interceptors?" He threw the bag aside and grabbed another. "You're spying on us? Who are you working for, Ryder? Who is this guy?"

"It's not surveillance," Murray protested. "Please, that's very delicate."

"I'll bet," Kirkham snapped, dumping the contents of the second bag out on the carpeted deck. He stomped it the pile of electronics thoroughly with one heavy boot, then kicked it apart as if looking for anything left whole.

"Stop that," Murray cried, and Nick had to hold him back from climbing in and attacking the raving paranoiac.

"Don't get into it with these guys," he hissed and Murray sagged against him, suddenly glad for Nick's arm around his shoulders.

"All right, Bozinsky, who are you working for? State pigs? Feds? FBI? CIA?"

"No, I—I'm just a programmer. I work with Nick in the detective agency. You hired us for the privacy and—and that's what you get. That stuff doesn't have anything to do with this job."

"Bullshit," Polito exclaimed. "He works for the government, I'm telling you. I seen him in the papers before we moved out here. He was a weapons tech in the Army. Weren't you, Bozinsky?" He gestured with his rifle and Murray trembled. "You don't want to lie to me, string bean."

"No, no, I was in the Army. I did computer work for them, but that was a long time ago. Honestly, didn't you know anything about us when you hired us? A lot of people choose our agency because of my computer skills."

"Well, we chose it because you were the only ones with a chopper," Kirkham said shortly. "Now let's see what else you guys were trying to sneak in."

They tore apart the inside of the _Mimi_, and all hope was lost when they found the weapons cache in the tail. Jones slammed Murray against the side of the chopper and searched him, finding his pistol almost at once. Murray made one move to reclaim it, acting on the new impulses he'd learned in his time with Quinlan, and was promptly cracked across the head with the butt of a heavy rifle. As he went down, he heard Nick shout, then a single gunshot.

_Oh, shit,_ he thought dimly as the lights went out and the world swam away. _I just got Nick killed, and I'm going to be next. Cody—Ted—I'm sorry._ Then a combat boot connected with his narrow ribs and he blacked out before the pain even really sank in.

***

The next time Murray opened his eyes, he was lying on the concrete floor of a cold, dark cell, the smell of blood heavy in the air. He tried to sit up and wrenched an unwilling moan from his aching chest. To his surprise, it was answered by an equally sad moan from a few feet away. He sensed that the room was small and tried to stand, wanting to get over there to see if it was Nick. The memory of that gunshot lurked in the back of his mind and he tried to push it away. Maybe he'd imagined that. His hair was matted thickly with blood—maybe that was what he was smelling and Nick was unhurt.

But when he couldn't get up, he began to wonder if he'd been shot himself. Then that low moan came again and Murray began to crawl toward it on his hands on knees. He knew as soon as he touched the other man that it was Nick, and that he was hurt. His shirt was wet and sticky, and when Murray called his name there was no response.

"Nick, please, I need you. It's dark and I'm scared. I can't get us out of here alone."

"Murray? 's that you?" he murmured.

"It's me. Nick, are you okay? Did—they hurt you?"

"Shot me. Don't know how bad."

"Where? Can—can I look at it? Is it still bleeding?"

"There's no light in here, Boz."

"Yes, I think we might be underground. But if you let me feel it, there might be something I can do."

"It's my back. I don't think it went through." Nick was on his side and when Murray touched his shoulder, he rolled forward and supported himself with his arms under his chest. It didn't hurt too much, so he guessed there was no exit wound there.

Murray's hands were gentle on his back, rolling his shirt up to his neck and following the tacky blood trails with sensitive fingertips until he found the wound. It was a long, deep graze that started at his left shoulder blade and cut a swath across his back to the other shoulder. Murray couldn't tell if the round had skimmed and landed somewhere else, or if it was still buried in Nick's flesh, but his gentle exploration started the gash bleeding again. He took off his jacket and overshirt, then pulled off his t-shirt and tore it into strips to tie around Nick's body. The bigger man winced and moaned, but when it was over, he managed to thank Murray for his efforts. Murray put his flannel shirt back on and covered Nick with his jacket.

"Don't thank me," he sighed, sitting down against the wall and easing Nick's head into his lap. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't brought that stuff, they would have just paid you and you'd be home by now. Probably. I don't know what time it is."

"That fancy watch of yours doesn't glow in the dark?"

"It's the digital one and the light doesn't work anymore. I keep meaning to fix it but I never got around to it. Nick, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, Murray. These people are crazy. If it wasn't your electronics, odds are it would have been something else. They were looking for any reason to go off on us. Are you okay? That guy, he hit you pretty hard."

"I'm fine. Just a bump on the head," he lied, stroking Nick's hair back from his forehead reassuringly. Probably it wasn't that bad. Head wounds always bled a lot, so it didn't really mean anything that he still felt blood running down his neck. And as long as he breathed shallowly, his chest didn't hurt too much. No, he was definitely the strong one here, sad as that was. "As soon as someone comes to check on us, I'll figure out how to get us out of here. I just need a look around".

"If we're gone too long, Cody and Quinlan—they'll come for us," Nick sighed. "Cody knows where we are. I left him a map. But don't you tell anyone that. If these guys start—if they question us, keep it to yourself, okay? We need to still be here when they come." He didn't want to tell Murray outright that they might be tortured for information, or simply killed before anyone could come and find them.

"How long do you think that would take?" Murray asked, his trembling voice letting his friend know that he'd already figured it out.

"I told him I'd be back by four. I'd say if we aren't there by five, and we don't answer the radio, he'll be calling LT about six."

"And how long will it take them to get here?"

"I don't know, man. Maybe by morning. They'll need a helicopter and they won't be able to see anything from the air tonight. Are you sure you're not hurt, Murray? You can last that long?"

"Yes, of course. I—I'm fine, Nick. It's you I'm worried about. If that wound gets infected…"

"It'll be okay. But, Murray—listen to me now." He shifted painfully and turned his face up toward Murray's, although he couldn't make out the familiar features in the dark. "If you see a good chance to escape, I want you to take it. I might be able to run, but I don't think I can fight like this. Don't wait for me, okay? If you can get out, go for help."

"No, Nick. I can't leave you here. I'll get hold of a gun or something and we'll both get away."

"Murray—"

"_No_," he said forcefully, pressing his palm to Nick's forehead. "You wouldn't leave me and I won't leave you. It—it wouldn't be right."

"Murray—"

He was interrupted by a rattle on the other side of the wall, where Murray now guessed the door was located, and suddenly the small room was flooded with light. Nick struggled to sit up and Murray held him, firm but gentle, ignoring the throbbing in his own chest. He had to squint to make out anything, but when his eyes had adjusted a little, he saw that he was right. They were underground, and their captors were holding double mantle Colemans, lighting up the basement/bomb shelter like a late night crime scene. The conversation was short and to the point, and when it was over, Kirkham pulled Murray to his feet and dragged him into the radio room on the ground floor. That was when he realized it really was late. There were no clocks in sight, but it was full dark outside.

Cody was on the radio, his voice urgent and scared. The voice of a man who had been calling for a long time and was about to alert the cavalry.

"You're gonna tell your friend that you had engine trouble and you're staying the night, understand? We're the souls of hospitality and everything's great. You got that?"

"And then what? Are we leaving in the morning?" he asked hopefully.

"So far as he knows. Now do what I said or I'll go back down there and start tearing chunks out of your friend. You'll both still be dead before anyone can find you, but I can make it quick or slow. It's up to you."

"But why?" Murray whispered, holding the radio mike in one shaking hand.

"Because you're a fucking fed, that's why," Polito snarled. "Shouldn't have fucked with us, G-man."

"But I'm not—"

"Just shut up and talk to your fed friend," Kirkham said, nudging him in the back with a rifle barrel.

Murray took a deep breath, thumbed the mike and said, "This is Murray. Go ahead."

"Murray, thank God," came Cody's voice, crackling with the static of long distance and multiple boosters. "What happened? Where's Nick?"

"We—uh—we had some engine trouble. We landed okay and Nick's out working on her now. We're going to stay here at the compound tonight and try to fly home in the morning."

"Oh. Well, are you sure you're okay? I could get up there and help if you think Nick needs me."

_More than anything_, Murray thought, his throat closing up painfully. He coughed lightly and said, "He'd love that, but it's okay. Just do me a favor, Cody. Tell Ted where I am so he doesn't worry. Tell him I'm okay, and I can't wait to see him and the boys from the shop."

"The boys—" Cody repeated and Murray flicked the button a couple of times to cut him off.

"The boys from the shop. They'll want to look at _Mimi_. But I have to go now. Nick needs my help. Call Ted, okay? Bye, Cody." He held the mike until Cody gave up trying to break in, than racked it and turned around. "Was that good enough?"

"Sure," Kirkham said. Then he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Who's Ted?"

"He—he's my roommate. He'll be worried when I don't come home. Can I go back to Nick, now? I want to check his wound again."

"Doesn't matter," Polito shrugged. "You two are gonna die in the morning anyway. But you wanna be locked up, that's fine by me."

They dragged Murray, stumbling and staggering, down the stairs and flung him into the small cell. He lost his balance and went to his knees, trying not to cry out and managing to keep it to a whimper. Still, Nick was calling to him, struggling to rise, and Murray crawled across the cement floor as the door slammed shut. The sound vibrated in his skull, nearly splitting it in half, and then he was leaning against the wall again, easing Nick's head into his lap.

"I talked to Cody," he whispered. "I couldn't say much, but I think he understood. It's going to be okay, Nick. We'll be okay."

"Wish I had some water," Nick murmured and seemed to go to sleep. Murray suspected he'd lost consciousness, and eased one hand under the jacket that covered Nick to feel his bandages. They were tacky, but the blood didn't feel fresh. He was weak and hurt, but not bleeding out.

Murray tried to rest his head against the wall and jerked away when the concrete dug into his bruised scalp. That was going to keep him awake, but he guessed he had a concussion, and probably a fairly serious one, given how long he'd been out, so that was probably just as well. He let his head hang forward, dozing lightly and stroking Nick's face whenever he woke. He hoped Cody was doing something, but he couldn't worry about that now. His job was worrying about Nick.

***

"What the hell was that?" Quinlan asked as Cody dropped the mike. He'd been there for two hours waiting for the guys for make contact, and now that they had, he didn't even know what had been said. He was mostly just angry that Cody hadn't let him talk.

"Something's wrong. Murray—he was trying to tell me something."

"Yeah, he wasn't making any sense. But he said Nick needed his help, and I believe that."

"So do I. But what was the rest of the message? What does he want us to do?"

"He kept saying shop," Ted said grimly. "He needs police."

"Are you sure? How do you know?"

"It's a joke of his. He stopped saying it, mostly, when I retired, but he always liked the phrase _cop shop_. Used to tease me with it all the time. So something's wrong up there, and it ain't that rust-bucket slick this time. You know where they are?"

"Yeah, sort of. I have an aerial map. If there's a decent LZ and they didn't try to hide the _Mimi_, we could probably spot it from the air. I know it's late, but can we get a chopper?"

"And what? Fly over in the dark?"

"We have to do something. I don't think they can wait til 'tomorrow. You heard Murray. He didn't sound good at all."

Quinlan nodded, thinking hard. Murray did sound bad, and his words were worse. _Nick needs my help._ That was important. Nick wouldn't have been working on his slick in the dark, and he wouldn't need Murray if he was.

"Yeah, you're right. But I can't get cops on this tonight. I don't have that kind of stroke with the department anymore. We can rent a bird, but who the hell's gonna fly it?"

"Shit. Are you sure about no cops? If they're being held against their will…"

"They are, but we can't prove it. Trust me, it'd take two days to get anyone on it and they ain't got that much time. Can we hire a pilot tonight? Or maybe get one of your Army buddies? Ryder's still in with them, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't know—_wait_. Wait, I got it. _Baxter_."

"Who?"

"Baxter Bernard. Hasn't Murray introduced you?"

"That crazy inventor? He's been over a couple times but I always go out when they start talking."

"Well, Baxter has helicopters and pilots and just about everything we need, and he loves Murray. If anyone can help us, it'll be him."

Quinlan wasn't sure how he felt about trusting the job to an eccentric old man who called him "sonny" and patted him on the head whenever they met, but Cody was right. Baxter _did_ have equipment, and he _did_ love Murray. That was more than they could hope for anywhere else.

***

An hour later they were in a BaxterCraft with Denise at the controls, flying North at speeds well in excess of what _Mimi_ could manage. Cody was at her side with the map, waiting for it to be time to hit the searchlight. _Mimi_ was down there somewhere, and their friends wouldn't be far away.

"Nick said two hours, right?" Denise asked. "Would he be doing the maximum speed, or did he tend to take it easy?"

"Take it easy? Nick? No, he'd be doing top speed. We—we had plans tonight. He was in a hurry."

"Okay, so two hours in that old Sikorsky means about an hour forty-five for us. We'll switch on the light after one and a half, in case the LZ is South of the compound."

"What if they see us coming?" Cody asked.

"I'm afraid they're going to. We can't be subtle here, boys. You just have to move fast and get them out before—well, before anything happens."

"Where will you be?" Quinlan asked from behind her.

"In the pilot's seat, where I belong. I imagine we'll want to take off the minute you get back."

"What about _Mimi_?" Cody asked. "Nick will want to fly her home."

"He might want to, but he won't," Quinlan said. "Not after what we heard on the radio. If Nick was in any kind of shape to fly, he'd have been talking to you, at least. And there's no telling what they might have done to his slick after they took the guys off it."

"Shit," Cody whispered. Denise didn't say anything at all.

***

"Cody? Cody, man, I'm thirsty."

"Cody's not here, Nick. It's Murray, remember?"

"Murray? Murray, I need a drink."

"I know, but there isn't anything. I'm sorry. I'd get you some water if I could."

"I know you would. You're a good friend, Boz."

"Are you okay otherwise? Are you hurting too much? Can I make you more comfortable?"

"No, I'm okay. Just let me rest a minute and we'll—we'll figure a way out of here."

"There isn't one, Nick. I checked when they brought me back in. The door's two inches thick and triple bolted on the outside. This room doesn't really even have walls. We're in the basement and it's dug right into the earth, like a bunker or something."

"So what are we gonna do?" he slurred.

"Wait. They'll take us out in the morning to do whatever they're going to do with us and we'll have to escape then. Somehow. You need to rest so you'll be ready."

"I can't fight or run, Murray. I'm—I'm so thirsty…"

"You will, though. You can do anything, Nick. When the time comes, you'll save us."

"I better," he sighed. "I got us into this, so I should get us out."

"No, Nick, this isn't your fault. It was my equipment that caused all this trouble. I never thought anyone could mistake my water purity testers for surveillance gear. These people are so ignorant. If this was the seventeenth century, they'd be burning us as witches."

"Did they burn men as witches?"

"I don't know," Murray sighed. "Maybe they just hung them. The point is, if these people had been keeping abreast of the latest technology, they'd know I couldn't track a mouse in a maze with that stuff."

"Boz, your stuff is so far past cutting edge, no one knows what it does except you. You're working on the sharp side of knives that haven't been made yet."

"And you're delirious, Nick. You don't even know what you're saying."

"Yes, I do. God, I need to get home. Cody—he needs me. You know how he is. He won't make it on his own. He—he needs so much…"

"I know he does. Just be strong a little longer, Nick." He ran his hand lightly over Nick's cool, pale cheek, wishing for some sweat, or even a touch of fever. This felt more like shock, and if Nick was in shock, he wouldn't be much help.

"Quinlan," Nick whispered.

"What was that?"

"Quinlan would—would look after Cody, wouldn't he? They're friends, right?"

Murray swallowed hard, blinking back tears. He'd been trying hard all day not to think about his lieutenant, how worried he must be, and how much he wanted to be at home with him right now. He cleared his throat, choked back a sob, and tried again.

"Sure he would. They—they'll look after each other. In fact, they're probably together right now. Think about it, Nick. I bet they're looking for us this minute. They'll be here soon, I'm sure, and then you—you'll get a drink of water, and we'll go home."

"These guys," Nick said vaguely. "Why are they keeping us here? Why can't we go now? I can fly. I'm not hurt that bad."

"No, I know you're not. But they think we're spies for the government, remember? And even if they believed us now, they've shot you and taken us prisoner so there's no way they could let us go."

"Yeah, I guess not." Still vague, sleepy and not so scared anymore. When the bolts on the door slid back with a sharp snicking sound, Murray sat up straighter but Nick didn't seem to hear.

A beam of light cut the darkness, not flooding it as the lanterns had done. Still, Murray blinked against it and covered Nick's eyes with one hand when he flinched. Nick couldn't raise his arms well enough to do it himself, and that made Murray wonder what would happen if they got the chance to run.

"You're Murray Bozinsky," came a low voice from behind the light. "Right?"

"Yes, I'm Dr. Bozinsky. Please, what are you going to do with us?"

"My name's Tommy Smith. I heard the colonel and his men talking over supper and realized who you were. They're going to kill you before dawn, you know."

"Yes, we know. But do you think my friend could have a drink of water first?"

"I brought a canteen. If you come with me, I think I can get you out of here. But if you make it, you have to take me with you."

"You want to leave?" Murray asked quietly.

"I've been here a year and a half and I hate it. My dad brought me when he divorced my mom. I want to go home, just like you guys."

"How old are you?" Nick asked, shaking his head to dislodge Murray's hand. Tommy came closer, put his flashlight down beside them, and knelt to give Nick a drink.

"I'm sixteen," he said, holding the canteen while Murray supported Nick's head. "I hike all around this area and I know where your chopper is. I can get you there in just a few minutes. Can you fly?"

"Yeah. Get me there and I can fly," Nick said, already trying to sit up. Tommy offered Murray the canteen and he took it, sipping slowly, swallowing only the barest amount, in case Nick needed it later. When he gave it back, Tommy capped it and slung the strap across his shoulders. He took Nick's hand and pulled him to his feet, supporting him when he stumbled. It took Murray a lot longer to rise. His legs had gone to sleep hours ago, and when he tried to lean against the wall, he grew dizzy and knocked his head against it.

"Boz? You coming?" Nick asked, his words slurring almost incomprehensibly.

"Yeah, one second. I'm sorry, my legs are all tingly." He tried stamping his feet but it seemed too loud in the echoing cell.

"Murray, can you walk?" Nick didn't sound vague anymore, he sounded frightened. Maybe of Murray holding them back, or even of leaving him behind. It didn't occur to Murray that Nick might be thinking of having to stay there with him, because Murray would never have allowed it.

"Yes. Yes, I'm coming." He pushed off the wall and the shadows swam before his eyes. Tommy reached out with the hand not supporting Nick, and Murray grabbed it like a lifeline. The boy may have only been sixteen, but he was big and strong and both men held onto him as they staggered into the open basement. The flashlight was in the hand that held Murray's narrow waist, and the light bounced unevenly off the walls as they walked. But by the time they reached the exterior door, Murray had recovered the feeling in his legs and was able to walk on his own. He took Nick from Tommy, freeing the boy to unlock the door and lead them up a narrow flight of stone steps.

There were floodlights outside, but they managed to keep to the shadows until they reached the gate, which Tommy also had a key for. He explained that he'd stolen them from his father, and if Nick didn't fly him out, he would be killed when the theft was discovered.

"Don't worry, kid. We'll take you home and adopt you if that's what you want," Nick said. "Anything at all, just so long as we get out of here."

"How far is it to the helipad?" Murray panted.

"About a half mile. Can you guys make it? We can rest for a minute, but I want to go a little farther first."

"We can make it," Nick said firmly. Their grips changed subtly until Nick was holding Murray up as much as being held, and Murray let his eyes fall shut for long seconds. It was like walking in his sleep, and the only thing that gave his throbbing head any relief. But when he stumbled over rough ground, Nick couldn't hold him up and they both went to their knees.

"Damn it to hell," Nick muttered. Tommy pulled him up quickly, then grabbed Murray's arm and ducked under it, holding it tight across his shoulders.

"Lean on me for a minute, Dr. B. Are you okay, pilot?"

"It's Nick. And yeah, I'm okay." He tripped over a fallen branch but didn't go down again. This time he picked up the branch and used it as a walking stick, ignoring the stabbing pains in his back. They walked for another ten minutes, and got maybe a quarter of a mile. Then Tommy led them off the path to a small clearing where a heavy log provided a place to rest.

Murray and Nick sat side by side, leaning against each others' shoulders, while Tommy uncapped the canteen. This time he gave it to Murray first. The skinny man took a swallow, paused to breathe, and took another. Then he handed it to Nick and leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees and vomited between his feet. Nick drank some water and gave it back to Tommy, keeping one arm around Murray the whole time.

"You're okay, Boz," he said softly. "You hear me? We're gonna get you to a hospital and you'll be fine."

"I—I am fine, Nick. Really. It's just my stomach. I didn't have anything to eat, and it's a little upset."

Nick knew better, and he suspected Murray did, too, but they needed to stay upbeat.

"Anyway, you're the one who got shot. You need the hospital, not me."

"I think you both do," Tommy said. "Let's get going, guys. We don't want to be out here when they discover you're gone."

He rose and helped Murray to his feet again, then held him up until Nick could get under his arm and support him. With Nick leaning on his stick and Murray on Nick, they resumed their slow trek through the woods. Nick didn't complain about the weight on his injured back, and Murray repaid him by not mentioning his aching ribs.

After another quarter mile, Murray asked if they could pause again. There was nowhere to sit, but he said that was okay. He eased away from Nick, leaned against a tree, and threw up again. After that, Tommy supported him and Nick was free to concentrate on keeping himself upright.

Thinking about Cody helped. In his heart, Nick was certain he would never fly _Mimi_ out of here. He didn't know how, but he was sure he would get there and find his lover waiting to rescue him. It had to be that way, because Nick was almost at the end of his rope. They were so close, it had to be right in front of them, but getting there was the best he could do. He knew he couldn't fly.

When he fell again, losing his staff and scraping his hands and knees once more, Tommy couldn't release Murray long enough to lift him up. The thin man was shaking too badly to stand on his own, and for a moment they were all at a loss. It was the sound of rotors that saved them, swiftly followed by a spotlight from above.

"Are they looking for us?" Murray asked in wonder.

"I hope so," Tommy said. "Because it looks like it's landing. I'm going to have to put you down, Dr. B. I'll check it out, and if it's help, I'll bring them back for you."

"Okay. Just—just put me beside Nick. He needs me."

Tommy complied, wondering a little at their devotion, and ran ahead to the helipad where the BaxterCraft was landing. When he emerged into the light from the small chopper, two men leapt out and pointed wire stock semi-automatic rifles at him. The sight filled him with more relief than fear and he began to babble.

"Are you looking for Dr. Bozinsky and his friend? They're here, just up the path. We were escaping—that is, they were escaping—I was helping them to their chopper, but they said I could go along. Please help me. They're hurt and I couldn't get them any farther."

Cody and Quinlan exchanged a glance and Cody put his weapon back in the BaxterCraft.

"Denise, we have a situation," he said, leaning in the door. "Can we fit six people in here?"

"No," she said promptly. "No way. Five was pushing it. We'd never get six."

"Then we have to take _Mimi_. Can you check her out? Make sure she's up to it?"

"You bet." Denise shut down her machine and took Cody's rifle. They wouldn't want to leave it behind.

When he got out, Tommy led them to where Nick and Murray waited, huddled together against the cold and dark.

"Nick, Jesus," Cody cried, dropping to his knees beside his friend. "What happened, buddy? How bad are you hurt?"

"I'm okay," he muttered. "Guy shot me, but I'm okay. Murray's sick, though. He needs help."

"Where are you shot, Nick? How bad is it?"

"I'm okay. Just get us out of here, man."

Cody helped him up, all but carrying him to the waiting _Mimi_, while Quinlan tried to get Murray on his feet. After a moment, he handed his gun to Tommy and slung the long body up over his shoulder. He didn't know what had happened to his lover, or what Nick meant by "sick", and he didn't want to waste time here by asking.

_Mimi_ was powering up as they climbed aboard and Nick felt a second intense wash of relief. The interior was a shambles, all their supplies and weapons gone, but they hadn't messed with her mechanics, so far as he could tell. Tommy told him that they were going to do that in the morning, when the sun came up.

"What about Baxter's bird?" Nick asked worriedly. Cody was trying to make him lie down and behave, but he still felt responsible.

"We're just going to have to leave it," Denise called back. "Bax told me to do anything, spare no expense, just so long as I brought you guys home."

"But that's a ten million dollar chopper."

"So what? Are your lives only worth nine? Forget it, Ryder. We're taking off now. Tomorrow I'll come back out with the police and pick up my bird, if it's still here. If it's not, it's insured." There was a small lurch as _Mimi_'s skids left the ground, and then it was clear skies and freedom.

"She's right," Cody said. "Now shut up and let me see how bad you're hurt."

"It's my shoulders. Asshole shot me in the back but I don't think the bullet's in there. Forget it. Take care of Murray." He tried to turn his head, needing to see for himself that Murray was there, but Cody held him still.

"You said he was sick. What happened?" Quinlan asked. He was right beside them on the floor, cradling the smaller man, who sometimes managed to smile at him but didn't speak.

"The guy, the leader of that little nut farm, hit him pretty hard. Cracked him on the head with a rifle butt. He went down like a sack of rocks and they started kicking him. I tried to get in between and one of them shot me. Murray—he took care of me while we were locked up. Bandaged the bullet wound with his shirt and kept my head up off the floor. But as soon as we got out, he went downhill. He was throwing up, couldn't hardly walk—is he awake? Murray, can you hear me?"

Quinlan grabbed a flashlight and trained the beam on Murray's bare chest. He hadn't bothered to button his shirt or put his jacket back on, and that might have explained his shivering. But his skin was pale and cold, and before the lieutenant was done counting bruises, Murray said he was awake and was going to be sick again. Quinlan grabbed a bag from under one of the seats and turned him on his side as he retched and moaned. The pain in his head was terrible, and his ribs were worse, but still his thoughts were with Nick.

"Cody, did you look at his back?" Murray asked weakly. "I couldn't see it. We never—never had any light. I tried to stop the bleeding…"

"You did great, Boz. There's just a little fresh blood, and that's probably from the walk. How far was it from the LZ to the compound?"

"About half a mile," Tommy said, speaking for the first time. "I didn't think they were gonna make it."

"And who are you?" Quinlan asked, fear and relief combining to make him sound angry. Murray wrapped a trembling hand around his wrist and told him to hush.

"My name's Tommy Smith. I—I was always a fan of Dr. Bozinsky's games, and when I heard Kirkham talking, I recognized his name. I knew he wasn't a spy, he doesn't work for the government. They're so paranoid, so fucking crazy, they were going to kill your friends for no reason at all."

"But you're one of 'em, ain't you?"

"No," he said firmly. "My dad took me away from my mom when they got divorced. She got custody and he just took me. She doesn't even know where I am. I—I just want to go home. I broke them out because they had a helicopter and I figured we'd all get away. Nick was going to try to fly us out, but you guys got there first."

"Thank God," Cody murmured. "He's in no condition to fly."

"I know," Tommy said. "But it was our only hope. They were going to put him and Dr. Bozinsky in the chopper and blow it up in the morning. That's why the lie about engine trouble. So they could tell you there was a mechanical problem and it crashed on take-off."

"We'd know the difference," Quinlan said, petting Murray's cold forehead with a shaking hand. "Blowing up on the ground looks a lot different from crashing."

"Well, maybe they had a plan for that. I don't know. I'm just a kid; they didn't tell me much. I'm just glad you two are the kind of friends who would fly around the woods in the middle of the night looking for people who've already told you they're safe and well."

Cody and Quinlan exchanged another, slightly humorous glance, and then Tommy understood.

"I really am lucky, aren't I?" he whispered. "_Just friends_ wouldn't have done it."

"We're all lucky," Nick sighed. "A lot of people wouldn't have done it, no matter what."

***

Denise flew them into LA and got permission to land at the nearest hospital. Once her passengers were off-loaded, she took _Mimi_ on home and reported to Baxter that the mission was a success. He didn't even ask about the BaxterCraft she'd taken off in. It was of no importance to him at all.

Nick had minor surgery to clean and explore his wound, and the bullet was found to have cut a deep groove without penetrating, just as they had hoped. Murray had a very small skull fracture and a very serious concussion to go along with his cracked ribs and sternum, but all he needed was rest. They put him in a double room, with Ted and Cody to sit and watch him until Nick was brought up from surgery. Only Tommy was missing, but he was all right. The police had already come and taken him to his mother.

***

Nick woke in the morning to find Cody sitting by his bed, holding his hand. His back and neck were aching, but he managed to turn his head enough to see Murray sleeping in the next bed, Quinlan dozing in a chair beside him.

"Is he okay?" Nick whispered hoarsely.

"Yeah. Here, have some water before you try to talk." He held the cup and Nick drank eagerly.

"Thanks, man. I really needed that. Is Murray okay, though? He had a pretty bad concussion."

"He's got a minor skull fracture and some cracked ribs. He just needs to rest. They're monitoring him for swelling in the brain, but if it hasn't started by now, it's not going to. He's fine, really. How're you feeling?"

"Sore. Tired. Kind of guilty. I was supposed to take care of the little guy and he ended up taking care of me, and with a fractured skull."

"You took care of each other, Nick. We're a team. That's what we do."

"Yeah, I guess. I'm still pretty tired, man. Can I have some more water? Then I think I want to get some more sleep."

"Sure." Cody refilled the cup and Nick drained it again. Then he lay back and closed his eyes.

"Thanks for coming after us," he murmured, already drifting away. "I love you, Cody. Love you so much…"

"I know, babe. I love you, too."


End file.
